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Forty-four years ago today, men from the planet Earth first set foot upon the moon. I was a week shy of my tenth birthday.

Four years ago today, my dog Gej was born. Half Pug, Half Maltese, the story we were told was that some Pennsylvania Puppy Mill had been trying to create a new “designer breed.” They were not happy with the result and the fine folks at the Delaware Puppy Rescue acquired him. Some weeks later, he came home with me, restoring that brand of joy to my life that only a dog can bring.

Many of the people in my community of science fiction fans and professionals will be marking the anniversary of the moon landing today, and it’s well and good that they do. But I choose to celebrate the birth of my dog, and in recognition of Gej turning four years old, we both went out and got groomed.

And so, in the spirit of pictures, or it didn’t happen, here are the before and after shots taken at the pet groomer’s.

I’ll point out that while Gej’s treatment cost more than twice mine, my barber did not include a full wash and dry, nor did she trim my nails, nor offer to shave my butt. Then again, today is Gej’s birthday, not mine.

We finished off our trip to the groomer by picking up Gej’s present, a double-boned, bacon-flavored, Nylabone DuraChew. Gej appears to like it very much.

I’ve received word that the new shared universe anthology, ReDeus: Divine Tales has gone to press. We’ll have the book available on Friday, August 3rd, at Shore Leave (as well as a majority of the contributors on hand to autograph your copy).

As such, I thought I’d tell you a bit more about my story in the book. It’s entitled “Coca Xocalātl” and is the tale of an eighty-five year old professor emeritus from the linguistics department of a university in San Diego, California. Except now San Diego has been reclaimed as a state of Mexico (along with portions of Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas). Why? Because the Aztec gods said so! But I digress.

Professor Garcia y Fuentes is more or less content to live out the rest of his days puttering around in the basement of the university’s library. He has his correspondence with former students and colleagues, he has articles to review for professional journals, and he has dead languages to tinker with. But if he’s allowed to do that, then there’s no story. So…

Instead, our good professor unwittingly draws the attention of one of the gods, Huehuecoyotl, aka Old Man Coyote. And while this isn’t quite the familiar trickster god of American folklore, he is still very much a trickster and he has plans for our professor. Oh my yes.

As for the title? It’s what you get when you mix Coca Cola with traditional (as in the year 1400, you know, old school) “hot chocolate,” or rather, it’s what you get if a god mixes it for you.

I leave you now with the stunning illustration that Carmen Carnero created to go with my story. Just outstanding!

Yesterday, as I tend to do on every Saturday, I headed off to enjoy a Chinese Buffet brunch and a good book. I stopped on my way out of the house to snap this photograph of Valerie enjoying a sunny read in our library, bracketed by dogs. That’s Gej of course on her right, and her own dog, Sugar, nestled on her left.

Now, personally, I really like the shaggy look, particularly the way you can’t quite see his eyes.

But… his fur does tend to get matted.

Then there’s the problem that tiny aliens — who just happen to look like twigs and burrs — from a generation-ship that crash-landed in the yard have been using their canine-specific mind-control beams to trick Gej into helping them gain access to the house. Once inside, they direct him to travel from room to room, then leap off him and attempt to colonize. It’s insidious!

So before Valerie returned I made arrangements to take him to the groomer for “the works” and here is the result:

He’s always a little bit surly and unhappy right when he comes back from the groomer, but some quality time with belly rubs will put him back in good spirits.

We can always tell when Gej is due to go to the vet, because his eyes begin to glow with an inner demonic light.

Maybe it’s because he knows he will have a chance to torment those same lab-coated individuals who stole his testicles. Or maybe it’s because whatever drugs they give him to suppress his demonic heritage (“Parvo?” Yeah, right. That’s not even a real word) is starting to wear off, allowing his powers to grow.

Either way, he’s off to the vet today. Best to wish everyone well, just in case.